Lonely Angel
by NerdySpaceBean
Summary: Set immediately after 'The Girl in the Fireplace'. While the Doctor reminisces sadly about Reinette, Rose attempts to comfort him. Ten/Rose fluff. (Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, or any of the characters.)


**A/N:**

 **I was re-watching The Girl in the Fireplace, and I could just picture a cute post-episode scene wherein Rose comforts the Doctor – so, here it is. I hope you enjoy!**

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" _God speed, my lonely angel…"_

The final words of Reinette's letter reverberated infinitely around the Doctor's head, possessing every corner of his vast and complex mind. Of course he'd only known her for less than a day in his time, yet she somehow managed to make him feel as if he'd known her since he was a young boy too. Reinette had her whole life to fall in love with the Doctor, yet he had met her all those times in just one tiny, fleeting day of his life – such was the tragedy of time travel.

The Doctor had never truly experienced love before. He'd had children and grandchildren on Gallifrey, but that was during his time of living with other Time Lords, a species that did quite the opposite of prioritising and romanticising love. He'd had many companions with whom he'd held hands, travelled the universe, and even kissed. But pure, unadulterated, _human_ love mystified him. And that was just it; he considered love a human emotion. Surely he was incapable of experiencing such a thing? I mean, the Doctor understood what humans meant when they used the word, he was aware that it could be applied to many different relations and things – family, friends, pets, even _Eastenders_. And yes, he did certainly feel close to the people he held most dear. He even enjoyed a good soap opera once in a while. But he didn't know what love was to him.

Reinette was human. Reinette claimed to love the Doctor. But that was her perspective as a human, something the Doctor could never look at a situation from. Personally, being unaware of how to translate his feelings, he believed that the bond they had had was beyond romance, beyond physical attraction, even beyond emotion. All he knew was that they had shared such a special and intimate connection, a connection he knew he would never, in all his years of wandering through the galaxy and time vortex, forget.

"You're not alright." A voice that was so tentative yet believable reached out from the edge of the TARDIS console room, gently easing the Doctor out of his melancholy and back to what was right in front of him, what really mattered.

"Rose." The Doctor was distantly taken aback by her return. "I thought you were finishing Mickey's TARDIS tour."

"Yeah, well I just showed him the gadget room – he was so fascinated he didn't even notice me leave." Rose smiled knowingly.

"What is he like, eh?" The Doctor returned his companion's smirk.

Stepping closer to the main console, Rose's smile dropped as she lowered her tone. "Don't you be changing the subject, Doctor. You can talk to me if you want, but you're not okay."

"'Course I am! I already told you, I'm always alright." Faking a bright grin, the Doctor attempted to convince Rose that there was nothing wrong with him, but to no avail.

"No, you're not. I always know when you're not alright. Now, I know you're very different from me, being an alien and all. And I might not have known you my whole life, like Reinette did. But I know those eyes well enough to realise you're not okay." Rose spoke softly and genuinely, profound emotion and knowledge behind her words. She gazed deep into the Doctor's ancient brown eyes, making it impossible for him to look away and avoid the topic of conversation.

"Okay, okay. You're right. I'm not okay." He eventually admitted, breaking eye contact and shaking his head in dismay.

"Tell me what's wrong." Rose's expression was saturated with sympathy and understanding – it was the kind of face anyone would open up to. "What happened to Reinette?"

The Doctor sighed while he hesitated, taking a few moments to gather his thoughts. "I thought… I thought I was trapped in that time frame. Trapped in her life. Taking the slow path. She didn't have to, but she took me back to the fireplace where I found my way back. Back to the TARDIS, back to you."

The Doctor glanced briefly at Rose, his eyes drinking in her wonderfully present form. In response, she blinked, her cheeks glowing faintly with a beautiful shade of pink.

Oblivious to his companion's feelings, the Doctor continued. "Reinette knew full well she was giving me up by showing me the way back home, but she did it regardless of the consequences. I was going to bring her with me, you know. She was going to travel with us. 'Pick a star, any star.' Those were the last words she ever heard me say. A lie. Of course, I wasn't to know…

"When I went back, Reinette was gone. Six more years, she waited for me. She thought I was going to come back for her, whisk her away from her unadventurous life, one lonely soul with another. But I was too late. You'd think, after hearing such a promising lie and then being abandoned forever, Reinette would have despised me, her bitterness growing as the years went by. Instead, she only grew fonder of me, more hopeful of my return. Such a brilliant soul, she was. And I let her down." Bowing his head in an ashamed manner, the Doctor clung to arbitrary levers on the TARDIS console for support as he evaded Rose's gaze – he knew her sympathetic expression would only rejuvenate his pain.

There were countless verbal reactions Rose could have expressed, and all of them crossed her mind. 'It wasn't your fault, Doctor', 'If you want to blame anyone, blame those stupid droids', 'I'm sure Reinette forgave you', 'Maybe you should forgive yourself once in a while', etc., etc. However, despite these all being valid options, Rose realised that the only way she was going to get through to the Doctor in that moment was through a physical feat. After all, actions speak louder than words.

Rising up on her tiptoes, Rose leaned close and planted a light kiss on the Doctor's cheek. The simple act of pressing her lips against a small patch of skin somehow conveyed such a deep sense of caring and – dare he think it? – _love,_ that a part of the Doctor's mind containing certain emotions that had been cordoned off and practically none existent for his entire 900 years of living began to stir and unwind.

He was so startled by Rose's kiss that, for once, the Doctor was rendered utterly speechless. His brown eyes grew as wide as a planet, and his lips hung open, mostly in a shocked manner, and ever so slightly in a smug way. Anyone who could have seen him in that moment would have seen how completely smitten he was with Rose and her faithful companionship. Reinette may have had a connection with him, but Rose and the Doctor were perfectly matched.

Without saying another word, Rose beamed with the power of a thousand stars and turned on her heel, sweeping through the control room on her way out. Just as she reached the steps leading back to Mickey, the Doctor called out to her. He wanted, more than anything, to tell her just how important she was to him, that she was his whole world and more. Naturally, he was still far too bottled up to voice his exact mind, so he settled for simple yet effective vagueness.

"Rose? Thank you."

Refraining from grinning too much, Rose nodded knowingly and bit her lip, turning away before she could say or do anything else that would mess things up.

Once she had left, the Doctor smiled shyly to himself. Perhaps, with Rose by his side, he could figure out what love meant to him.


End file.
